Out of all the boys in school, Will was the biggest threat. Not because he was handsome or because he was one of the only ones who was ever somewhat interested in me, but because…
He never gave up. Deep down, I loved that, because I was going to be an effort for anyone, and he wasn’t easily discouraged.
Right now, I wanted him to pick me up.
But instead, I circled the truck and climbed in the driver’s side, immediately locking the doors. If he wasn’t driving me home, I’d drive myself.
Rain tapped against his window, and I watched him come around and stand there, a glint in his eyes at my challenge.
I waited for him to try to stop me, but…he didn’t.
Shifting the truck into gear, I punched the gas and sped off, pulling a quick U-turn as the tires screeched against the pavement.
I sped past him and headed out of the parking lot, not even taking one last look in my rearview mirror.
I turned onto the dark road and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, speeding back to Thunder Bay and gripping the wheel like it was his damn neck.
Who did he think he was? Did every girl just roll over and thank her lucky stars for his attention? Is that where he got such confidence?
I just wanted to go home. Study. Graduate. And leave this town.
I didn’t want anything else!
“Ugh!” I growled, turning up the radio and inching up in my seat because I could barely reach the damn pedals, and it was too dark to try to figure out how to adjust the seat in this stupid truck.
God, where did he get off? He’s all like “Hey, babe. I’m—insert hair flip and surfer boy tone—Will Grayson. Should we like, maybe get together and mate? We can totally honeymoon in Hawaii. I’ll put a stamp in your passport and make all your dreams come true.”
Which of course, we wouldn’t need our passports, because Hawaii was still in our own country!
I growled under my breath, breathing hard as rain fell harder, blurring the road in front of me.
I turned on the wipers, my brain calming a little.
Okay, okay. He wasn’t that dumb.
He wasn’t dumb at all. He would know Hawaii was in America.
And he didn’t say ‘like’ and ‘totally’.
I hooded my eyes, sighing. And he could be kind.
And sweet.
I hesitated a moment, watching the rain really come down now before I slowed on the empty highway and pulled another U-turn, heading back to him.
He was persistent to the point of exhaustion, but…I couldn’t let him walk home in this. I couldn’t do that to him.
Speeding back to the Cove, I turned into the parking lot again and spotted him kicked back on a parking stump, hood up and ankles crossed.
I pulled up next to him, rolling down the window.
He peered up at me, batting his eyelashes against the rain.
“I really don’t like you,” I said nice and loud so we were clear.
He smiled and pushed himself up, coming up to the truck and climbing up on the step, peering down at me.
“I like that you don’t like me,” he taunted.
He pushed his hood off, and I watched streams of rain cascade down his face.
“So, I’m a challenge then?” I asked. “That’s what all this is really about?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You just make me want to be…”
“Better?” I rolled my eyes at the cliché statement.
But he paused a moment. “More,” he finally said. “No one ever expects more from me.”
I studied him, not having anything to say to that.
I looked down at the phone in his hand instead. “Is someone coming to get you already?”
“No.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket. “I was getting ready to call your brother to report my stolen car.”
I widened my eyes and almost screamed, but I just clamped my mouth shut and gritted my teeth.
Son of a bitch.
“Scoot over,” he said.
I huffed and crawled over the console into my seat, and he opened the door, climbing in.
• • •
“Can I pick you up for school Monday morning?” he asked, turning onto my street.
I unfastened my seatbelt. “No.”
“I just asked to be nice,” he said in a stern tone. “I’m picking you up. I don’t like you walking.”
“Please…” I shook my head, ready to plead. “Please don’t.”
We approached my house, and I grabbed my bag and flute off the floor.
“Stop here,” I told him.
“I’m not afraid of your brother, Em.”
“Please just drop me here,” I bit out. “Stop the truck, Will. Please.”
“Okay.” He quickly pulled over to the curb, sliding behind Mrs. Costa’s Buick.
I opened the door, but he grabbed my hand.
I looked at him over my shoulder.
“I’ll be right here,” he said. “At seven.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if saying no again would do any good, but I just took my stuff and jumped down from the cab.
I met his eyes once more before I closed the door and then jogged down the sidewalk, turning up my walkway. I looked around for anyone who might’ve seen us, but thankfully, it was late and the street was quiet.
I climbed my steps and twisted the door handle, my heart dropping a little because that meant Martin was still up.
I stepped inside and heard Will’s truck finally pull off, breezing past my house. I closed and locked the door, my lips twitching with a smile.
He actually waited until I was inside to leave.
Dishes clanked in the kitchen, and I dropped my bags to the floor, heading in to face the music. I had no idea how late I was, and I hadn’t checked my phone for missed calls.
Hands in my jacket pockets, I stopped just inside the dark kitchen.
Martin stood at the sink, pre-washing dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. He turned his head, eyeing me over his shoulder.
“Dinner is there.” He gestured to the plate on the table.
But I rushed up to his side instead, taking the plate out of his hand. “I can do it. You worked all day.”
He let me take over, grabbing a towel and drying his hands as he stepped away. I took the dish brush and scrubbed the crust from our breakfast this morning.
“You know,” he said. “Funny thing. When you didn’t make it home by ten, I tracked your phone.”
I faltered, feeling the hair on my arms rise. He could track my phone? How long had he been doing that?
“It told me that you were at the Cove.” He walked away and leaned against the counter, his eyes on me. “Funny thing is, the Cove closed at eight tonight, and when I drove out there, all I saw was Will Grayson’s truck in the parking lot.”
I rubbed circles on the plate, pressing hard so my hands wouldn’t shake.
“I support your education, Emory,” he told me, “your extracurricular activities, and your projects, because I want you to make something of yourself, and I know that all looks good on your college resumé.”
I put the plate in the dishwasher and picked up another one, avoiding his gaze.
I wished I was still in Will’s truck.
“And while you’re off playing, I’m working or I’m here.” He inched closer. “No woman wants me with you in this house. No one wants me because I can never give her the Thunder Bay life, because I’m paying for Grand-Mère’s nurse and for you.”